


Ascension

by Zycorax



Series: Ravarin the Ravaged [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Cult of the Damned - Freeform, Female Protagonist, Gen, Necromancy, Scourge (Warcraft), Third War (Warcraft)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zycorax/pseuds/Zycorax
Series: Ravarin the Ravaged [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052873
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Ascension

The group had arrived at dusk. Three armed men, escorting the four novice necromancers from Scholomance. The four were treated as royalty, receiving the best wine and food they had to offer. Just about every living soul in the outpost was trying to press into the tavern to catch a glimpse of them. Rumours had it that there would be an ascension ceremony the following morning. Perhaps as many as twenty loyal servants would get to become undead.  
  
Ravarin was looking down at the crowd from the middle of the staircase. She was sitting on the banister, where the stairs turned, gripping it hard to avoid being pushed off by anyone attempting to force their way up or down. The four were gathered around a big table in the middle of the room. She had been studying them for a while now and they seemed quite different. There were two men and two women.  
  
One of the men got a lot of attention, but seemed unfazed by all the commotion. His dark brown skin was a bit of a rarity around these parts and her fellow cultists seemed to have all sorts of opinions about him. He was more muscular than what you’d expect of someone mastering the dark arts, surely a former craftsman or soldier.  
  
The other man seemed rather uncomfortable with it all. He was quietly eating his meal, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He looked no older than herself and had an equally bony build. His skin was pale, his hair already greying, despite his age.  
  
Ravarin switched her gaze to the other side of the table, where the two women were sitting. One was shamelessly flirting with at least three men at the same time. Her flowing brown hair reached well past her shoulders and her robe left very little to the imagination, to Ravarin’s annoyance, but very much to many of the onlookers’ pleasure. She could see the hungry gazes from all corners of the room.  
  
The last woman was probably the most different from the rest. Not so much because of her attitude, but more so because of her long, pointy ears. The high elf was calmly answering any questions being thrown her way in a polite manner. She seemed older and more mature than the others, although it was difficult to tell with elves. They often looked like they were still in their twenties, despite being over a century old. The only thing that could give it away was her behaviour, or perhaps her white hair. Then again, the only other greying member of the group was the youngest, presumably still a teenager.  
  
Several hours passed before the guests, with their guards, were escorted up the stairs to their rooms.  
  
*  
  
It was still dark when the bell rang, telling them to get up. While she would normally get dressed and go eat breakfast, today was different. Today was the day she had waited for. She was among the chosen.  
  
Ravarin sat up in the bed and wiped away her tears with shaking hands. Her right hand traced the scars on her face. She looked up and smiled. Looking at the others, it was easy to see who else had been chosen today, even if their reactions were vastly different from each other. Some were smiling and laughing. Some were crying. Some were quiet.  
  
Once dressed, she and the others, twelve in total, went across the road, carrying nothing but their pillow. They were told to do so. One by one they went inside the town hall. She cast a final glance over her shoulder. A sliver of daylight could be seen over the mountains to the east.  
  
The interior of the town hall was dimly lit by candles. The four necromancers were standing in the middle of the room, a few metres apart, with a small cauldron on the floor between them. Their guards and a handful of their own bruisers were also present. Ravarin and the others lined up against the wall, placing their pillows on the floor behind them.  
  
Once everyone was in place, the necromancers all produced a goblet from their satchels. They were all engraved with beautiful, elaborate pictures of skulls and bones. In turn, the four filled their goblets with a liquid from the cauldron and went to stand in front of the chosen ones, essentially dividing them into four groups of three.  
  
Ravarin was the second one in her group. She patiently waited, as the elven necromancer stepped forward to the woman on her left. The woman knelt and the elf presented the goblet to her. The woman drank a mouthful of the liquid and grimaced, before handing the goblet back. She then lied down on her back, resting her head on her pillow and crossing her arms across her chest.  
  
The elf graciously moved in front of Ravarin. The girl knelt down and looked up at the elf, causing the blonde fringe that usually concealed her scars to fall to the side. The otherwise emotionless elf subtly raised a brow, before handing the goblet to her. She carefully accepted it and brought it up to her mouth. She couldn’t see the liquid, but it tasted green. She had to fight hard to not retch and forced herself to swallow it. She looked up at the elf again, offering her the goblet back. She knew it wasn’t long now and she couldn’t help but to smile. It was a content smile, as if she had finally found peace in her mind. A lone tear trickled down her cheek, over her scars.  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered, earning herself a subtle smile from the elf, as she took the goblet back. It was a bittersweet smile. One that said that she understood, but still didn’t quite agree. The elf moved on to the next and Ravarin was left to ponder, as she laid down on the floor, resting her head on her own pillow. She crossed her arms across her chest and closed her eyes.  
  
She was trying to figure out the meaning of the elf’s smile, but her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a man screaming somewhere else in the room. She could hear the guards scrambling and forcing the man to the ground, but it didn’t matter. She was too sleepy. She heard a blade being drawn and cutting into flesh, followed by silence, but it didn’t matter. Her arms were too heavy. Her body too weak to do anything. Her senses too faint to comprehend what was happening. It didn’t matter. Her existence faded away.  
  
*  
  
Ravarin opened her eyes. She was cold. The glowing blue eyes of the elf looked down at her. There was a hint of sadness hiding behind the apathetic facade.  
  
 _It didn’t matter. She didn’t care._  
  
She sat up, trying to figure out where she was.  
  
 _It didn’t matter. She knew what to do._  
  
She tried to stand up, struggling at first. She couldn’t really feel her feet.  
  
 _It didn’t matter. She had places to go._  
  
She stumbled out of the town hall, nearly colliding with someone in the vestibule.  
  
 _It didn’t matter. They were not important._  
  
She stepped outside, into the warm summer morning. A gentle breeze swept across the road. She couldn’t feel it.  
  
 _It didn’t matter. She didn’t need it._  
  
She turned to the west, looking at the sunrise. It was beautiful, but it didn’t matter. She tried to cry, but couldn’t.  
  
 _It didn’t matter..._


End file.
